Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“You look amazing!” Samuel’s voice was powerful as he spoke to be heard over the music.
I spun around, looking up to find him standing only an arm’s length away from me. Lachlan, Benedict, and Ransom surrounded me in an instant, not even bothering to hide their glares. I flashed Samuel an apologetic look at their reaction. It would take time for them to adjust, to understand why I’d made the decision I had.
It would take time for me too. And really, I suppose he was lucky Hawke hadn’t decided to show up to the party yet.
“Your costume isn’t very creative,” I said, scanning him. He wore a royal blue suit that could’ve been lifted straight from Benedict’s extensive collection.
He shrugged, planting me with that too-charming smile. “I only stopped by to say hello to you,” he said, then tilted his head. “Well, that and try to speak with my brothers.” He visibly swallowed, his eyes cutting across the club to where Dagon, Ajax, and Talon stood in an intimidating-as-hell huddle, their normal fighting leathers shed to make way for the motorcycle club patches that somehow made them look even more terrifying.
I glanced between them and Samuel, the weight in his features just this side of pain. A blink and he smoothed his face into a mask of charming indifference, returning his focus to me. “I would have pegged you for a Rapunzel or a Marie Antoinette—”
“Then you don’t know her at all.” Hawke’s voice cut over Samuel’s, and every nerve ending in my body came alive with the sound.
“Like you didn’t think the same thing,” I fired back, not even bothering to look where Hawke had materialized behind me.
Samuel wasn’t right for me, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be treated like shit because of his brother’s actions. I knew all too well the weight of carrying your brother’s decisions on your shoulders, having to uphold a royal standard that sometimes I didn’t feel capable of.
“Have fun tonight,” Samuel said, dipping his head slightly. “Next year we’ll go as Cinderella and Prince Charming.”
My stomach dropped at the picture he painted. I wasn’t Cinderella. I didn’t like prince charmings. I preferred the jaded, edged in danger villains who would burn the world to the ground to be with their partner.
But it didn’t matter what I preferred, what I wanted. Samuel was who I’d chosen, and every reasoning behind it had to do with saving my people.
I forced a smile to my lips, and Samuel winked at me before casually strolling out of the club. Had to give it to him, he certainly had a level of control most warrior vampires lacked, especially when provoked and challenged over and over by a pack of assassins.
“Well, that was awkward,” Annika said.
I laughed again, spinning back around to face my friends.
Hawke’s gaze caught mine, and I hated that the breath in my lungs froze at the sight of him. He didn’t need a costume. He wore his fighting leathers, his numerous blades winking in the purple and teal lights of the club. His eyes trailed over me, from the tips of my cat mask all the way down to my thigh-high boots. Desire churned in his eyes, and I felt the sizzling sensation ripple down our unaccepted bond. My own body responded to him, but I managed to not let my knees wobble.
He’d left the other night.
Again.
Sure, he’d blown my mind in ways I never knew existed, but he’d ran. I wanted to strangle him as much as I wanted to chain him up and whip some sense into him with the leather around my waist.
A flicker of heat licked down the center of me at the thought, and I had to bite back a smirk at how much more that picture suited me over the Cinderella one.
Valor handed me another drink, shattering the spell Hawke held me in. I took it, sipping it this time.
“Where’s Daphne?” I asked, glancing around the club, willing and ready to talk and think about anything other than the brooding vampire leaning against the bar, not taking his eyes off me for a second.
“Daphne doesn’t turn eighteen for another six months,” Valor said, shaking her head. “Jocelyn offered to sneak her in, but I’d rather not corrupt her any more than I already have.”
I raised my brows. “She acts so much older than that,” I said. “I guess I’m bad at judging human age.”
Valor waved me off. “You’re not the only one. And she’s been through a ton.” She sighed. “That kind of trauma ages a person for sure, but thanks to all of you, we got her out before any more damage could be done. And she’s doing amazing, all things considered.” Lachlan smoothed his hand over Valor’s lower back, a silent show of support I wasn’t even sure he noticed. The two—hell, all my mated friends—acted like that all the time, this effortless sort of connection that I envied.